Vacation: All I Never Wanted
by StrongatHeart
Summary: Sequel to 'Trade Off.' It's time for a Michalchuk family vacation, that also includes Paige and Dylan's aunt, uncle, and cousins. And unfortunately for them, Alex and Marco.
1. Getaway

**Title: Vacation: All I Never Wanted**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. **

**Characters: Marco, Alex, Paige, Dylan, plus a few original characters, from Trade Off. **

**A/N: So...I decided to do a sequel. It was too much fun not to play with Patricia, Emily, and Daniel a little more, lol. This takes place about...around three months after Trade Off, give or take a month or so. Doesn't matter much. **

**A/N2: For the life of me, I cannot remember what Paige and Dylan's parents' names are, or if the names were ever even mentioned. So, their names are going to be John and Cathy, for no particular reason. They were just the first random names that popped into my head, lol. Also, if I make any continuity errors, and contradict somehow what I wrote in Trade Off, I apologize in advance. I'll be as careful as I can to make sure everything coincides, but I wasn't counting on a sequel when I wrote Trade Off. But I'll try to get it right. :D**

**POV: Alex's, at least for this chapter. I think I'm going to be switching like I did last time. And now, I'm gonna shut up, lol. **

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I should have known something was up. I should have been able to tell. One of the most useful weapons that comes with knowing somebody well for a considerably long period of time is the ability to sense things concerning them a mile off. Read their mind, predict their thoughts before they even think them.

Somehow, that failed me.

And so I walked right into the trap.

It was a quarter to six, and one of the rare occasions when all four of us, that is, me, Paige, Dylan, and Marco... all sat down and ate dinner together during the week. Typically, Marco would grab something after class, Paige would get a late lunch after work, Dylan would eat after hockey practice, and I would get something with some people at the little cafe where I now worked. Anyway, Curly's hockey practice had been cut short, Paige and Marco hadn't eaten, and I happened to be off today, so we were all eating dinner together tonight.

In retrospect, I suppose I should have seen past Paige's lame attempts at flattery and sucking up that she had been employing lavishly all evening. She laughed uncontrollably at every joke I cracked, some of which weren't even funny, she called me 'honey-bear,' which she only ever does if she wants something, and let me choose what I wanted on TV, even going so far as to miss her favorite show to let me finish watching a gruesome vampire flick that I knew she was hating every minute of.

I chalked it all up to PMS. Paige Michalchuk Syndrome.

Paige was an unusual person by nature. Seemingly random mood swings that came out of nowhere were common, even expected. But I really, _really _should have known something was up when I accidentally spilled orange soda all over her precious _Lifehouse_ CD, effectively destroying it beyond all hope, and she only shrugged and said it was an accident.

Forget PMS, the girl was obviously losing her mind.

The reason for all of this, all of the sucking up, all the generous compliments and kind gestures, so un-Paige-like, of course had to be a part of some greater plan. As it was, it was only a matter of hours before I found out the real reason behind her behavior. There was a brief lapse in conversation at the dinner table as all four of us took a bite or sipped our drinks at the same time. Paige, obviously seeing this as her opening, like a predator sensing weakness, pounced on the opportunity.

"So..." she said, brandishing her fork animatedly. A few sauce-coated spaghetti noodles fell off back into her bowl. "I heard from my mom today."

Marco looked up interestedly, but Dylan did not appear surprised or intrigued at all. This, I realize now, should have been just another sign. He didn't act surprised because he _wasn't. _If Paige had heard from her mother, then Dylan must have, too. Now, I wondered if Curly had been treating Marco anything like Paige had been treating me. These Michalchuks knew how to get what they wanted.

"Yeah, she said Ray and Charlotte are going on vacation," Paige continued.

"Nice. Where?" I asked.

"To their cabin," she said, stirring her spaghetti idly. "They own some land by the lake...them and my parents; they go in on it half in half together. There's two cabins up there... our family's got one, and Ray and Charlotte have the other one. They're all secluded in the woods, out in the middle of nowhere. It's got a view of the lake and everything," she explained to Marco and me.

"That's kind of cool. When are they leaving?" asked Marco.

"A couple weeks."

I nodded, taking another bite of spaghetti, and ended up choking on most of it at her next words.

"They want us all to come with them."

Marco's eyes widened, as I coughed and spluttered next to him. Damn Italian food.

"_What?" _I demanded, once I had finally cleared my air passage. Dylan, I noticed, was pushing spaghetti around in his bowl, avoiding Marco's gaze, which had morphed into an accusing glare. Yep, I'll bet he'd been sucking up all day, too, and Marco, like me, was just now realizing why.

Paige shrugged. "Ray, Charlotte, Daniel, and Patricia are going on vacation in a couple weeks. They asked my parents and me and Dylan to come, and they said you and Marco were welcome. Emily's coming with Daniel, and Anthony is supposed to be coming with Patricia."

"Excuse me, but do the words _Michalchuk Easter Celebration _mean anything to you?" I demanded harshly. "After everything Patricia did...after everything that psycho Emily did... you want to go on vacation with them?"

Paige grimaced. "Well, not really. But..."

"Our parents asked us to," Dylan finally spoke up. He sounded weary, rather defeated, and suddenly I wondered exactly what his parents could possibly have said to them both to get them to agree to this.

"We couldn't say no," Paige added, her bright blue eyes going wide. She had that annoyingly helpless, innocent look that she knew damn well I couldn't say no to. But I sure as hell could try.

"They said..." Dylan began, then sighed. It came out as half a groan. "They said this may be the last vacation we're going to get to have together. With me graduating from University next year, and with Paige's career...we're all _really _moving on. For good," he pleaded with us to understand. "They guilt tripped us into it, guys."

Marco moaned. "But you had to say _'yes?'"_

"You're not exactly immune to your parents, either," Dylan pointed out. "If I remember correctly, I'm still just your barely-a-friend roommate who happens to be gay, to _your _dad."

Marco sat back in his seat, scowling, but unable to argue with that.

I, however, could. "So, why do we have to go?" I was probably whining at this point. I didn't care. No fucking way was I putting up with the dysfunctional Adams family for any prolonged period of time.

"Because," said Paige weakly. "You're our significant others. You're important to us, and you're important to our families," she pouted.

I raised an eyebrow. Adorable, but not going to cut it.

"It's not a vacation without you," Dylan added, employing his own Michalchuk Pout and turning it full force on Marco.

"Please?" Paige's eyes grew, if possible, even wider, but I stood my ground.

"I'm not going," I said firmly.

"Neither am I. I've had enough of Patricia to last me a lifetime," agreed Marco.

"But we won't even be in the same house as her!" Paige insisted. "Or Emily," she added quickly.

"How far apart are the cabins?"

"They're...well... that's not the point!" she said, a little flustered. "If you would just—" began Paige again, preparing herself for another argument, but Dylan cut her off.

"Forget it, Paige. They said they don't want to go. Just drop it," he sighed again dejectedly, his gaze returning to his food.

"But— " spluttered Paige. "But they want—"

"Paige, drop it, okay? They're not coming," said Dylan, a little more firmly, though still looking rather glum.

Paige let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. It's just Mom and Dad—"

"I know, Paige," said Dylan. "I know, okay?"

That was when it happened. The first sniffle, barely perceptible, caught my attention from across the table. Then it happened again, a little louder this time. I barely had time to wonder what was going on before a single pearly tear, catching the light from overhead, streamed down Paige's porcelain cheek. She wiped it away quickly with the back of her hand.

"It was supposed to be special," she said quietly to her brother, her voice a little choked up. "The last vacation...like we were kids again. And they were supposed to come...I wanted us all to be...togeth..." but Paige's voice gave out on her here, and she dissolved into quiet sobs. Jesus, it was nothing to cry over. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if PMS of the other type was at all to blame for my girlfriend's current behavior.

"Shh... I know, Paigey. It's all right. We'll still go. Me and you, okay? Just like old times," but Dylan, too, despite his words, patted her back only half-heartedly, as though not entirely convinced himself that the situation was still as desirable as it had once been. Not that it had ever been particularly inviting, but you know what I mean.

I glanced over at Marco, who was eying them both nervously, obviously discomforted by Paige's tears. When Dylan sighed sadly, and rubbed the hand that was not patting Paige's back consolingly over his tired eyes, it seemed Marco could not take any more. Not if his best friend was crying and his boyfriend was clearly suffering.

"Okay!" he said loudly, making Paige look up in surprise from where her face was buried in her hands. "Okay, I'll go," and he sat back in his chair, looking sullen and moody.

Dylan gave him a grateful look. "You will?" he asked, as though hardly daring to hope, sounding as hopelessly pathetic as his still weeping sister in that moment.

Marco nodded shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Whatever."

I shook my head at him, then glanced uneasily back over at Paige, who was still crying. She had paused momentarily to offer Marco a watery smile, then upon catching sight of me again, dissolved back into tears. As silent sobs racked her small body, I felt my heart being tugged at, my conscience giving me that familiar nudge.

I growled, slumping forward on the table with my head in my hands, and my elbows on the table propping me up. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration and sat back up again.

"Oh, _fine!" _

At the grudging huff of agreement, Paige peeked up from her hands again, sniffling pitifully. "What?" she asked, her voice still choked and a little nasally due to her now red and stuffy nose. "You'll—you'll go?"

I nodded, already hating myself with every fiber of my being for agreeing to this. "Yeah, I'll fucking go."

A bright smile lit up her tear-streaked face, illuminating her eyes, like two brilliant sapphires. "Thank you, Alex!" she cried happily. And that seemed to be the cue, because both she and Dylan threw back their chairs and stood up, and next second, to Marco's surprise and my slight irritation, they were on us or behind us or on top of us, kissing and hugging and thanking us profusely.

"All right, all right, get off," I said, swatting Dylan away as he released Marco and came to hug me in turn. Next to me, Marco was exchanging a quick hug with Paige, looking exasperated and a little relieved that she had stopped crying. I'd bet twenty bucks those tears were fake.

I totally hate my girlfriend.

"This is going to be the best vacay _ever!" _squealed Paige, letting go of Marco and bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. Dylan, thankfully, had refrained from squealing or jumping up and down, and settled for a wide, euphoric grin.

"It better be," I grumbled.

"You won't regret it, Alex. It'll be great! Me and you, a lake view...how romantic is that?" Paige's voice could barely contain her excitement. It was almost disconcerting how her attitude could change in a split second like that.

"I may even show you my special secret cove by the water," Dylan said seductively as he trailed a finger down over Marco's shoulder, who smiled reluctantly and rolled his eyes.

"It'll be the best vacation you've ever had!" Paige promised. "Have we mentioned lately how much we _love _you guys?" Yeah, yeah. When have I heard that before?

Oh, right. Try every time she tries to suck me into whatever fucked situation she's managed to land herself in.

You'd really think I'd have learned by now.


	2. Old Dog, Same Tricks

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A/N: Yay, chapter two :D Not too much going on in this chapter, but things certainly start to go downhill for the gang. I kinda based their vacation spot off a place I went with my family a couple years ago, so the place actually has a little basis in reality, I'm not completely making it up. This time. Lol. Let me know if you like :)

**POV: Paige**

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Stifling a yawn, I sat back in my seat in the car, turning to watch the increasingly wild and less populated scenery pass by the window. It had been two weeks since Alex and Marco had agreed to come along for the grand 'Michalchuk's Last Stand' vacay. I had a feeling my tears had had a lot to do with it. It's amazing what learning to cry on cue can get you.

Maybe it was a tad selfish of me, taking a page out of Alex's book and utilizing my evil abilities for my own personal ends, but this could possibly be the last vacation my family would take together for a very, very long time. That said, I wanted my _entire_ family there, and that so happened to include Alex, the love of my life. Sappy? Yes. But she was never going to hear those words from my mouth. Mostly because I knew she'd tease me about being so girly and romantic. But whatever. I knew I would never be able to fully enjoy the experience of a week away if Alex, that oh-so-important piece of my family, was missing.

Anyway, it was two weeks later, and now the four of us were reaching the end of a three-billion-hour car ride to the piece of land our family owned, and the cabins we would be staying in. The ride itself hadn't actually been that bad, at least up until an hour ago.

Dylan's beloved car was stuffed to the breaking point with all our baggage, and, of course, _us,_ but I was sitting in the back with Marco, who was really one of the most fun people I knew to endure an extremely long car ride with. We'd been happily playing every road game you could think of, mixed with a few interspersed rounds of _I Spy, _and even a few rounds of _Guess That Celebrity, _a game of Marco's own divine creation.

That was until Dylan, who was driving, finally had enough and asked Alex to take over. She had, and within seconds Dylan was in the back seat with us, effectively distracting Marco from any further games I'd wanted to play. If you know what I mean.

So now I was riding shot gun beside Alex, staring dully out the window, watching the trees pass by us in a green blur, while Marco and Dylan remained thoroughly occupied with each other's lips behind us. If Alex hadn't insisted in the first place that the narrow seat was too crowded for her amongst all the suitcases and duffel bags and thus taken the front passenger seat, the two of us might have been able to do the same at first.

But oh no, she'd had to complain, and I'd had to settle for playing mindless road game after mindless road game with Marco. Not that that wasn't a blast, but when faced with the choice of plowing through a rather giggly, off-key version of the _Saved by the Bell _theme song, and making out with my raven-haired beauty, there was really no competition.

Finally, after what had to be at least another couple hundred hours on the road, I was beginning to recognize a few landmarks here and there, until at last, we turned onto the long, winding dirt path snaking into the relatively untamed woods that would bring us to our vacation spot. Not exactly a trip to the beach, but between the crisp, fresh air, beautiful scenery, and serenely removed sense of it all, it was exactly the sort of getaway you sometimes need. This week already promised to be exactly the isolated, away-from-everything time I had been craving lately, if only subconsciously. Between the relaxing free time, and the fact that Alex had agreed to come, I had a feeling this week was going to be just what the doctor ordered. I almost couldn't wait for it to begin.

A familiar scene beginning to come into view, I hurriedly tucked the map we'd been using all day into the glove compartment, sitting up a little straighter in my seat.

"Dylan, Marco... time to resurface," I called back over my shoulder. There was a rather disgusting smacking noise behind me, and I grimaced. Gross.

At long, long last, the first of the two cabins came into view, bit by bit, still obscured slightly by trees. Four bedroom, one and a half bath...it was the one I'd be staying in with my parents, brother, best friend, and girlfriend for the next week.

Alex eased the car up the rather steep hill we were on, along the dirt path, up into the small alloted space beside the house behind my parents' already present car.

"Hmm. Impressive. Where's the other cabin?" Alex asked as we all slowly climbed from the vehicle, a bit stiff from the long ride.

The sweet scent of fresh air hit us the moment we stepped out into it. A few birds could be heard whistling in the distance, and the trees swayed easily in the warm, gentle breeze. I took an appreciative look around, taking in the sight of the flowers poking up from the ground near the side of the house, and the rolling hill that I knew would descend into a rocky terrain, that would eventually end in a small waterside cliff down by the lake.

"Over there a little ways," I answered, waving vaguely in the direction of my aunt and uncle's house, still obscured by the towering trees. "Let's go inside. Everyone grab their bags."

Five minutes later, each of us were dragging our respective luggage up the dirt path leading toward the house. Dylan reached it first, heaving his bulging suitcase over the top step of the porch, and fumbled in his pocket for his keys upon finding the door locked. I highly doubted that my parents had locked the door for safety reasons—it wasn't as though people regularly came by here, anyway—rather, it had most likely been done out of pure habit on their part.

"You know, the least they could've done was come and help us," grumbled Alex, a prominent scowl etched onto her face as she finally managed to haul her duffel bag—along with my second suitcase—up the path to join the rest of us. "How much stuff did you need? We're only here for one week," she growled at me. Not that I didn't love it when she growled at me, just not in the irritated, totally pissed way she did just then.

"Well, I wasn't sure what I'd need. Better safe than sorry," I defended myself, shrugging. "And I didn't ask you to carry it. You insisted," I reminded her. She merely rolled her eyes and settled into a huffy, exasperated silence. I smiled. Whenever Alex fell silent in situations like this, it was typically because she had no argument to pose.

Finally, Dylan managed to locate the right key and shoved it roughly into the keyhole. There was a satisfying 'click' and he pulled the door open.

"Ladies first," he said, holding the door open for us.

"Oh, go ahead then, Dyl," Alex quipped teasingly.

He glared at her and stomped past, leaving Marco to catch the door and prop it open again. Laughing, I tightened my grip on my suitcase and followed my brother. With a small grunt of exertion, I heard Alex struggling to follow me.

I dropped my luggage in the middle of the hallway, straightening up and taking a look around. My parents had come down the year before, but Dylan and I hadn't been here in the last two, not since I had left for university; it had been too difficult to find a unanimous free week between all our hectic, conflicting schedules.

"Mom? Dad?" I called out, moving further into the hallway.

"In here, honey!" My mother's voice called back after a moment. Dylan and I leading the way, we strode down the familiar hall toward her voice, passing the charming little kitchen, the flight of stairs leading to a second level, along with various old photos of family hung at intervals on the wall, the wooden floorboards creaking slightly under our feet. As we reached the end of the hall and made a right into the living room, my stomach did a little flip.

"What happened?" Dylan asked almost immediately, his gaze sweeping the small group of people assembled in our living room. The entire cheery atmosphere, generated by the mostly enjoyable car ride and sunny, clear-skied weather outside, changed in a heartbeat.

My parents were both on the sofa, opposite Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Ray, who had his arm draped around his wife's shoulders. All four of them were looking grim and ashen-faced, and Aunt Charlotte's head was in her hands.

"Mom? Dad? _What's_ going on?" I spoke up, practically repeating Dylan's question when no one answered. My first thought was some sort of family emergency. Fear stabbed at me suddenly with its icy chill, and my heart rate briefly accelerated, as thoughts of each and every family member not currently present flashed through my mind.

Dad sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily, in much the same way that Dylan so often did. "They... they went over to their cabin when they got here...or at least, what's still standing of it..."

My mouth dropped open. "What?! What do you mean, what's still standing? What the hell happened?"

"A tree," Uncle Ray spoke softly. "A damn tree...fell on the house."

He looked exhausted and bitter, and after those few words, returned his attentions to comforting Charlotte, who had given a little moan of despair at his explanation to us. She was not crying, but was obviously upset, and quite understandably so.

"Oh, shit," said Dylan quietly. "Well...you've got...you've got insurance and everything, though, right?"

"Still, Dylan..." our dad began, a note of warning audible in his voice.

"I know! I know it's still...it's still horrible and everything..." Dylan hastened to amend, looking apologetic. "I just meant, it's not as horrible as it _could _be..."

"Dylan, maybe you and Paige could show Marco and Alex their rooms," Dad said, raising an eyebrow. It was an order, rather than the simple suggestion he had phrased it as, and I could tell Dylan took it as such.

Dyl nodded. "Yeah," and he spun on his heel and headed back the way we had come. Alex, Marco, and I followed.

"Shit, can you believe that?" Alex whispered, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder toward the rest of the family. "A fucking _tree...?"_

"When do you think that happened?" asked Marco.

Dylan shrugged. "I don't know. I think Ray and Charlotte came down here about a month ago...so who knows? Sometime after then. And this place isn't exactly on a main road or anything...I doubt anyone around here would have even known something happened."

"So what do you think they're going to do?" I asked softly, picking up my suitcase again and beginning to drag it down a hallway toward the staircase we had passed earlier. I made a mental note to check out luggage on wheels the next time I went shopping. How I was going to get this damn thing up those steps was still a mystery to me.

"Well, they've got to get rid of the tree," Marco pointed out. "See what's been damaged, probably call the insurance company...and if the damage to the house has been there long..."

"And then they've got to actually_ fix _the damage...or hire someone to do it. Charlotte can't even handle a drill...and Ray's not exactly the handy-man type..." Dylan said, beginning to follow Alex up the stairs.

I let out a low breath between my teeth, half out of sympathy for my aunt and uncle, and half out of exertion as I heaved my suitcase over the first two steps after my brother and girlfriend. "Wow. That really sucks. I mean, hugely."

"I know."

With a great sense of relief and no small amount of effort, I finally managed to haul my luggage over the top step, where Dylan and Alex were waiting for their respective partners. My room was the first door on the right, and with my last remaining morsel of strength, I dragged my suitcase over to stand in front of it.

"I'm going to go get me and Marco settled in. See you later," said Dylan, once Marco had at last made it to the top, and took off down the hall toward their designated rooms.

We had discussed the sleeping arrangements with our parents beforehand. Dylan and I would be staying in our own rooms; Alex would get the spare bedroom; and Marco would get the extra room that we had converted to a little sitting area years ago. It hadn't really ever been intended to be a bedroom, more like a second, minimized living room, but it contained a futon and enough room to exist comfortably in, at least for the week, so it would work.

I had been kind of disappointed when I'd figured out that my parents had no intention of allowing Alex and myself to stay in the same room, despite being twenty years old and in a committed relationship, though I wasn't really surprised. It was a parent thing, I guess. Old protective, if only slightly suffocating, habits die hard. Besides, years of practice sneaking in and out of the house were still good for something.

"Hey, Alex, your room is going to be that one just down the hall, okay?" I said. "Second on the right. I'm just going to drop off my suitcase, then I'll come down and help you get settled in."

"You might be needing this, then," she said, holding out my second suitcase for me to take. My arm was nearly ripped out of my socket from the sheer weight of it. The handle dug painfully into my palm, and I set it momentarily on the ground.

"Thanks," I squeaked, letting go of my other suitcase as well to rub my now slightly throbbing shoulder.

"No problem. Later, Michalchuk," she smiled at me, then turned and headed down the hall in the same direction as Dylan and Marco toward her own room.

I tore my eyes away from her retreating form and turned to go inside my room. The door, with its previously self-designed 'Keep Out' sign, was shut. I reached for the handle and let myself in.

I did a double take.

The eternally unwelcome sight of Patricia Michalchuk greeted me with the same unpleasant sensation as a sour taste in my mouth. She was sitting with her legs crossed, pouring over some type of book from her place on my lacy green and white duvet, draped over my queen-sized bed.

She gave me a cool glance when I walked in, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. She looked a little different than the last time I'd seen her. Mainly because of the absence of the loose brown curls I'd been accustomed to on her all my life. Now her hair was sleek and straight, swept back and clipped firmly behind her head. She was also considerably more tan than when I'd seen her last. I wondered vaguely whether it was the work of a tanning booth, or if she'd done it herself, but I doubted it was completely natural.

To my (an eternal fashionista) further surprise, she seemed to have abandoned her preppy, flirty style I'd always associated her with and gone for a more conservative, sophisticated look, much like my own. In fact, the white top and floaty, knee-length black skirt was something one might actually find in my closet. Not particularly practical for a cabin in the middle of nowhere, but that was beside the point, I supposed.

I realized suddenly that, as she was two years younger than I was, this was the year Patricia had gotten out of high-school. Perhaps she'd thought a new look was in order. Less of the fun, flirtatious mini-skirts and low-cut tops, in lieu of a more refined, adult look. And after giving her a quick once-over, I had to admit that if that had been her intention, it had worked.

Meanwhile, she had plastered her usual humorless smirk upon her face, and made a slight noise of derision in the back of her throat at the sight of me. _New look, same old Patricia... _I thought wryly. I merely looked back at her, waiting for an explanation as to what she was doing in my room, on my bed. Only what she said were the last two words on earth I'd expected, or ever wanted, to hear come out of her mouth.

"Hey, roomie."


	3. Just As Good

**A/N: Dylan's POV.**

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"Daniel?" I paused in the doorway to my room. There was my cousin, kneeling on the floor, and digging through an old suitcase propped open by the bed. He seemed to have gotten a haircut since I'd last seen him at the party a few months prior. Usually, I didn't notice shit like this, but his dark hair had gone from falling lazily into his eyes, to chopped within an inch of his head, and it made quite a discernible difference.

"Oh, hey Dylan," he nodded up at me.

"Um...hey?" I answered weakly, still somewhat confused. Suddenly, he laughed.

"Oh! Sorry, man. Guess you're wondering what the hell I'm doing in your room?"

"Well...kind of, yeah," I admitted, moving further into the room, leaving my suitcase at the door. The room was, simply put, a hockey haven. Everything from the curtains to the lamp shade to the Wayne Gretzky poster on the wall, all specifically chosen by my younger self, actively reflected my love for the sport. Even the blankets stretched over the bunk bed in the corner had the Maple Leafs logo for a design.

"Did you hear what happened to our cabin?" Daniel immediately sobered up. I nodded. "Well, your parents offered to let us stay here. Guess they didn't tell you?" I shook my head, and he continued. "Okay, well, Patricia's staying with Paige, and Emily is going to be sharing with Alex, and, obviously, me and you."

My eyes widened. "Patricia and Paige?"

Daniel smirked. "Yeah. Ten bucks says one of them murders the other before the end of the week," he laughed again.

"The end of the week? I give it three days," I said, only half-joking. "Why can't Emily and Paige stay together?"

Daniel shrugged. "I think our moms were talking about 'mending fences' or some shit like that," he rolled his eyes. "More like mending the broken window once one of them gets pushed out of it."

"Seriously. So, where is everyone staying at?" I leaned back against my dresser, folding my arms across my chest and staring down at my cousin, knelt over beside the bed, still rifling through his suitcase.

"Well, my parents are staying in your spare bedroom. Patricia is staying with Paige in her room. Emily and Alex are staying in that little sitting room you guys have with the futon. And you, me, and Marco are sharing this one," Daniel ticked off his fingers.

I cocked an eyebrow. "All three of us?"

"You guys can have the beds. I'll take the floor," he said quickly. "By the way, where is Marco?"

"Oh, I sent him—" but the rest of my sentence was cut off by the appearance of Marco himself, dragging his luggage along behind him.

"Hey, um...I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding..." he began. "Emily is in my room, and she's found Alex, and she's saying that.."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. There was a mix up. We're going to be staying in here with Daniel." I gestured at my cousin, who smiled up at my boyfriend.

Marco looked surprised, but shrugged. "Oh. Okay."

I helped him pull his suitcase into the room, grabbing mine as well, and heaved them into the corner, out of the way.

"So, who's getting the beds?" Marco asked after a moment.

Daniel finally zipped up his own suitcase and straightened up. "I don't care. You guys can take the beds. I'll take the floor."

"Why don't we switch off? You two can have the beds tonight, me and Marco can have them tomorrow, and so on?" I suggested.

"Sounds good," said Daniel unconcernedly.

Marco peered down into the lower bunk, looking thoughtful. "Either that, or Dylan and I could share one, and you could get the other?" he grinned at me. "The bottom one could hold us."

Daniel's face was a painful looking mixture of amusement and a little discomfort. "Yeah, I doubt your parents let that happen."

"It's not like we don't share a bed at home," I muttered. "We're _adults."_

"Still...they're _parents. _They get that way,_"_ said Daniel wisely. "But you guys do whatever. Only if you do share a bed, keep in mind I'm right above you. And not deaf."

I laughed, and Marco blushed. "Looks like our reputation precedes us, babe," I joked, swinging an arm around his shoulder.

"Wait a sec," said Marco, looking suddenly confused. "Wasn't Patricia's boyfriend supposed to come, too? Where's he staying?"

Daniel looked amused. "Anthony? Nah, they broke up last week. I've got to hand it to her, though...three whole months...that beats all her other relationships by at least eight weeks."

I snorted, but Marco asked, "Why'd they break up?"

"Oh, Anthony caught Patricia flirting with another guy. Again. For about the third time," Daniel shook his head. Marco caught my eye, and I squeezed his shoulders, trying to fight back a grin.

"Really? Never would have imagined," I said, and earned myself a sharp elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Marco, who was obviously trying hard not to crack up. But Daniel, who had turned to admire the view from my window, missed both his gesture and my sarcasm.

"Nice view," Daniel said appreciatively. "I can't wait to get out there."

"Why don't we go?" I suggested. "But I'm starving, so lets get something to eat first?"

"Sounds good. Mom's on this health kick," Daniel explained, rolling his eyes as he accompanied Marco and I out of the room. "She won't let us have any junk food in the house. Maybe here I can sneak a few cookies or something...I'm having sugar withdrawals."

I laughed, leading the way downstairs and into the kitchen. It looked just as I remembered it. Little wooden table, brown counter-tops, neat little row of decoratively carved cabinets above the stove...a little small for all of the people who would be staying now, but nonetheless reasonably well-equipped.

I immediately went over to the cabinet on the far right. Perfect. It had already been stocked.

"I'm having a sandwich. What do you guys want?" I asked, reaching into the cabinet for the bread.

Marco shrugged. "I'll have whatever you're having."

"I'll fix my own," said Daniel. With some assistance from him and Marco, the three turkey sandwiches were done in no time. The three of us sat around the table, eating and just generally enjoying the friendly atmosphere. I was pleased that things with my cousin, at least, had not changed after the events of the party a few months prior, when Daniel's sister had attempted to out Paige and I to our entire family.

"Hey," said Daniel suddenly, gulping down the last of the soda he had sneaked, despite his mother's imposed 'family diet.' "I'm just going to use the bathroom real quick man, I'll be right back. Then we can go," And with that, he was off, and Marco and I were left alone.

"So, how do you like the place?" I asked conversationally, popping the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth.

He smiled. "It's awesome. I can't wait to get outside."

"You'll love it," I said enthusiastically. "There's this kind of hill, sort of like a cliff—and it goes all the way down till it drops off by the lake... and you can just sit there and watch the water and then when the sun sets...it's really cool."

I couldn't stop the small grin forming on my own face, now, at all the old family memories this place carried. Like the time Paige had seen a snake the size of a shoelace and started screaming at the top of her lungs, and refused to leave the house unless one of our parents was carrying her above the ground at all times. Or the time Paige had wandered into the woods on her own and gotten lost for an hour before anyone realized she was gone. Or, the time I had attempted to jump off the little cliff at the end of the hill into the water below, and manged to sprain my ankle. That may not sound like a good thing, but in the long run, it had certainly provided some amusement. The injury had prevented me from going hiking with my parents and sister later that day, and as luck would have it, my father had no idea what the hell he was doing, and led them all directly into a patch of poison ivy. Seeing Paige going insane, bursting with discomfort, had been rather entertaining, and had almost made the swollen ankle worthwhile.

"I can't wait," Marco repeated. "So...what's the deal with the roommate situation?" he asked after a moment, chewing thoughtfully on the remaining bit of his own turkey sandwich.

"Well...it looks like everyone's going to be staying here. Me, you, and Daniel are sharing, Ray and Charlotte are getting the spare bedroom, Alex and Emily are getting that little sitting room upstairs, and Patricia's staying with Paige in her room," I explained. Marco's eyes widened comically.

"Paige and _Patricia? _And Alex and Emily?_ Oh my God,_ are you _serious?"_

I almost laughed at his high-pitched voice and near-hysteria. "Yeah, I know. Daniel says my mom and Charlotte were talking about Paige and Patricia 'mending fences' or something."

"And they really think that's going to work?"

I shrugged. "What doesn't kill them brings them closer, I guess."

Marco shook his head in wonderment. "Yeah, but you know it just might."

"Kill them? Most likely," I agreed. "But hey, you know it's going to make for an awesome show. It's going to be interesting, to say the least."

Marco snorted, rolling his eyes in exasperation at me. "It's so nice how you get such amusement from your own sister's pain."

At that moment, Daniel came bounding back into the room, interrupting me as I opened my mouth to retort. "Okay, I'm ready. Want to go check out the scene?"

I stood, balancing mine and Marco's empty plates in one hand, and carried them over to the sink. "Yeah. Let's go."

Marco and I followed Daniel down the hall toward the front door. I couldn't resist the urge to take a deep breath of fresh air the moment we set foot outside, the wooden boards of the porch creaking under our weight as the three of us leaped over all four stairs, hitting the dirt at the bottom with a muffled thud.

"Come on!" Daniel called, already darting ahead of us, inexplicably making me think of an excited child at the zoo for the first time. He glanced back over his shoulder at the top of the hill, right before it rolled over and descended out of sight. "Dylan, get your ass in gear!" He disappeared over the side of the hill.

I tried to hurry forward after my cousin, and maybe it was karma for gleaning so much amusement from Paige's pain, as Marco had pointed out to me mere minutes prior, but I had barely taken three steps when my foot caught on a protruding root. I gasped in pain, swearing loudly.

Marco glanced over at me where I was wincing and kneeling on the ground, my ankle now throbbing.

"You okay?" he asked, coming to my side and laying a hand on my shoulder to steady me. In my pain, I really wanted to shake him off, not feeling particularly touchy at the moment, but before I could, he let his hand drop, as though able to sense what I was thinking. He'd always been good at that.

"Yeah," I said through teeth clenched in pain. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll catch up in a minute."

"You sure?"

I nodded, and with a last glance back at me, Marco hurried after my cousin. I hopped on one foot back over to the porch, and sat down on the top step, cradling my sore foot, reminded forcibly of the sprained ankle incident so many years before.

About a minute later, when the pain had mostly subsided and I deemed myself ready to stand again, I had barely gotten to my feet when a couple of voices caught my attention. There were two, both feminine, that I recognized after a moment's careful concentration as my mother and aunt. They were coming from the side of the house where I knew an old wooden swing resided, and I abruptly changed directions, heading toward the both of them instead, with the intentions of a quick hello to them both and possibly telling my mother I was going exploring. I didn't need her permission, as I always had when I was younger, but there was no sense in her worrying or wondering where the three of us had disappeared to when I could so easily tell her myself.

My mouth was already open with a greeting half-formed on my lips, when I stopped short, just around the corner of the house from where they were, and just out of sight, too curious for my own good, my interest caught by the snippet of conversation I heard.

"Of course, Patricia and Emily are like sisters. Even go shopping together," Aunt Charlotte was saying.

I peeked around the corner, not entirely sure why I was hiding, but certain that their conversation would end if I made my presence known, as I tried not to brush up against an old spiderweb clinging to the side of the house.

As I had suspected, they were both on the wooden swing chair, the balls of their feet pressing lightly against the floorboards, rocking them gently backward and forward, perfectly in time with each others' movements.

My mom made a noise in the back of her throat, a soft smile gracing her lips. "It's nice they have someone to do those kinds of things with. I never had any sisters. I'm the only girl in my family, so was my mother, and so is Paige. She's had her friends in high school, but she barely talks to any of them now. They grow apart...you know how it is," she shrugged.

Charlotte wrinkled her nose a little, as though sniffing something not altogether pleasant. "Well, she's got Alex, I guess."

My mom shrugged again. "Alex isn't really the type to go shopping, you know?"

Charlotte nodded, still with that sour look on her face. "Yeah. I guess those types aren't really into that kind of thing."

I raised an eyebrow, a little surprised at her bluntness, not to mention her blatant stereotyping. There was no doubt in my mind what "those types" were that she was referring to. Frankly, out of my entire extended family, Charlotte was among the last I would have thought would ever ride that train of thought.

"Paige is 'that type,'" my mother pointed out coolly. She didn't sound angry, just...what was the word? Weary? As though she'd had this conversation one too many times before. And she probably had, I realized. Maybe not with Charlotte, but I had never really considered how my parents reacted to some comments that could potentially be insulting to their children.

"She's dated boys before," Charlotte waved a hand airily. "She's only twenty. She has plenty of time to figure things out," she said unconcernedly.

I felt a familiar fire rising up in my chest. _I_ had heard that argument enough times before, and it never got any easier. It was always the same..._they're young...they're confused...it's a phase..._

I shook my head, leaning in a little closer to hear, then hastily jumping back as I leaned too far into the spider web. I frantically brushed it off, batting at it until every last glimmering trace of the web was gone. I glanced around to make sure no one had seen, and made a quick vow never to mention that little episode to anyone. When I leaned forward again to catch what I hoped would be my mother's response, I was disappointed to find that I had apparently missed it.

"...moving in together after college," Charlotte was saying. "She's the sweetest thing, too. Lucky Daniel's managed to find someone like her," she sighed contentedly here, gazing out at the wispy hint of a cirrus cloud in the distance. "It's a shame Paige and Dylan will never get that."

"Well," said my mother slowly, as though weighing every word carefully. "They do. It's a little unconventional, but...they love Alex and Marco. And really, what more can you ask for?"

Charlotte looked down the wooden swing at my mother, an almost pitying look on her face. "So...you're not the least bit upset that..."

"That what?" my mom asked when Charlotte hesitated.

Charlotte bit her lip, brushing a strand of frizzy blond hair behind her ear, obviously uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. "Well...that they'll never get married. You'll never have grandkids."

"You know gay marriage is legal here...and there's adoption..." my mother began, a sharp note to her voice.

"Yes, but, Cathy...is it the same? I mean, can you honestly say that it's the same thing?" Charlotte demanded.

There was silence for a moment, while I waited with baited breath for my mother's reply. "No."

It felt like a kick in the gut for a moment, a flash of hurt. But then my mom was speaking again, and I forced myself to listen to her next words.

"It's not the same thing. It's completely different," she admitted. "But it's just as good. They're happy."

I smiled. She was _so _getting something amazing next mother's day.

"If you say so," Charlotte shrugged.

"I do say so," said my mother firmly. "And I think you're overreacting about Alex and Emily sharing a room. It's not a big deal. She's not going to jump Emily in the middle of the night, for God's sake."

Charlotte sighed. "If you say so," she said again. "But I don't know why they had to bring Alex and Marco along, anyway."

"Same reason Daniel brought Emily," my mom said fairly.

Charlotte shook her head. "You don't get it, Cathy."

"Maybe not," agreed my mother.

A tense silence enveloped them both, and I decided that I'd heard enough, anyway. Backing up quietly, I turned and headed in the direction Daniel and Marco had gone, deciding against telling my mother where we were going. She'd figure it out, and besides, we wouldn't be gone long.

I caught up with my boyfriend and cousin within a few minutes. Both of them were slowly trying to make their way down the rocky hill toward the lakeside. I leapt lightly onto a large slab of rock beside Marco, who was abnormally pale. I'd forgotten he was afraid of heights, and when you glanced over the side of this hill, it certainly was a long way down.

I slipped an arm around his waist and drew him closer, kissing him on the cheek. God, I wouldn't trade him for anything. Not an easier life, not with a female, not for anything.

Maybe it really wasn't the same. But my mother was right; it was just as good.

* * *

**A/N: So, how was it? And Aunt Charlotte's whole "my-kids-are-better-and-yours-are-screw-ups" attitude she's getting is going to bear some importance later on. Mostly because anytime anyone has a plan in my fanfics, including Charlotte's plan for her kids' perfect lives, the plan must backfire horribly, a****s you will see. ;)**


	4. Princess

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. hides in shame Don't kill me. Or I'll just come back as a ghost and...I dunno...write a big Palex break up or something. Yeah that's it. ;) Okay, I don't think this chapter advances the plot too much here, but I really wanted to get back to Paige and Patricia before I did anything else. Next chapter I want to maybe get back to the Dylan/Aunt Charlotte and Marco/Patricia issues. But this needed to happen first. So...here it is. :) (And to make up for the wait, there's some nice little Palex-y fluff at the end. Enjoy) ;) **

**POV: Paige**

"Excuse-moi?"

"Speaking Spanish, now, are we?" Patricia asked, her attention returning almost immediately to her book.

"French. _Excuse-moi_ is French," I corrected crossly.

"Whatever."

I just stared at her, unable to trust my eyes or ears at the moment. Had she really just said _roomie? _As in, _roommate? _As in, sharing a _room_ with _her?_

"Um,_ hon..."_ I began. How could I put this nicely? "What the fuck are you doing in my room?" Well, that worked, too.

Patricia glanced up at me, not looking remotely bothered, which naturally, only irritated me further. "My family are staying here with you. We're sharing your room."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"I don't like it any more than you do," she assured me, shooting a filthy look in my direction. "But just so you know, I'm getting the bed."

I could hardly believe her nerve. "Again, hon—_excuse-moi? _What makes you think you're getting the bed? It's _my _room..."

Patricia flashed a sugary (and fake) smile up at me. "Well, I _am _the guest. It's only polite of you."

I laughed, a low, dark laugh completely devoid of humor. "Oh, you want to talk about being _polite? _After what you pulled at the Easter party?"

Patricia cast her book aside, standing up briskly and drawing herself up to her full height, suddenly electrified with anger. "Well what about you, Ms. Perfect? You skipped out on that podcast you promised me you'd do," she said. "I had this whole segment planned out, a debate...you versus some homophobe...do you know how many listeners you cost us? We looked like a bunch of incompetent idiots!"

"Did you? Well, people were bound to realize the truth eventually..."

"Are you listening to me!?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I'm finding it extremely hard not to, hon. And besides, do you really think what I did was worse than what _you _tried to do? You almost outed me and Dylan in front of our whole family! You would have, if Alex hadn't stepped up..."

"They deserved to know the truth!" Patricia countered.

"Oh, bullshit! You did it to hurt me, that was the only reason!"

"And you tried to hurt me back, by sabotaging my podcast!"

My own waspish response was cut off by the blood-curdling shriek coming from down the hallway. Patricia and I exchanged wide-eyed glances before taking off toward the source of the noise. Voices could be heard, one low and dangerous, the other high-pitched and screechy, both slightly muffled by the closed door to the sitting room.

I reached it first, and swung it open. Patricia wasn't far behind, and we both stopped, frozen, in the doorway, staring at the scene before us.

"Your _girlfriend _is fucking crazy!" Emily shouted indignantly from her position on her ass, on the floor. Then I realized that Alex was there too, towering over her from the futon, looking furious.

Great. I could only guess the reason as to why Emily was on the floor.

"Alex, hon._.._what the hell did you do?" I asked in a voice of forced calm.

"She _pushed _me! She pushed me off!" Emily answered indignantly, grabbing the edge of the futon and pulling herself to her feet.

Alex didn't look remotely guilty, and merely shrugged. "She said we were sharing the room. One of us was getting the futon, and one of us was getting the floor. She should have been more specific."

I rolled my eyes, and strode further into the room, Patricia at my heels. The room wasn't particularly large, but it was cozy. A serene blue color stained the walls, the monotony of them broken by several old wooden shelves interspersed throughout. A small television sat opposite the faded, striped green and aqua futon, which was currently folded to resemble a couch.

"Consider yourself lucky. _You _don't have to share a room with Princess Paige," Patricia said, striding past me to assist Emily in brushing invisible dirt off her clothes.

"No, I'm sharing a room with a psychotic lesbian!" Emily snapped.

"Oh, no you didn't, bitch..." said Alex, pushing herself off the futon. Before she could make a single move in Emily's direction, however, I pushed her firmly back down.

"Don't," I warned.

"Look, why can't you two share a room? I wanna stay with Patricia," Emily whined.

"Because my aunt, apparently, thinks me staying with_ her_ is a good idea," Patricia answered, as though I wasn't standing right there and currently listening to her every word. "She's still under the impression that Paige _isn't _a bitch, so I'm stuck with her."

"Don't worry, though, Emily—Alex generally goes for girls that _don't_ have mustache's. Just don't shave that thing while your here, you should be fine," I said coldly.

Emily gave me the same type of judgmental once-over that my cousin had. "Oh, is that it? I thought she just liked fake blonds who use their bras as Kleenex dispensers," Emily countered. Hmm. The bitch had game.

"Hey!" Alex made to stand up again, and continued to glare at Emily when I pushed her back down.

"You see!" Emily shrieked hysterically, gesturing wildly at Alex. "She's going to attack me!"

"Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut?" I suggested.

"Or I could shut it for you, if you prefer," offered Alex.

"She threatened me!" Emily cried. "Did you hear that? That was a clear threat! Wait till I tell my Dani-Bear his cousin's girlfriend is harassing me!"

Alex snorted. _"Dani-bear?"_ she repeated.

"Shut up!" Emily said angrily, her face flushed. "Look, I don't want to share a room with her. It's as simple as that," she said loftily, as though that settled the matter.

"Well, we don't really have a choice, Em," Patricia said gently. "I mean, the last thing I wanted to do on _my _vacation was stay with Paige, but you do what you have to do."

"Um, hi, I'm standing right here," I waved a hand. "And sharing a room with you isn't exactly my idea of a dream vacation, either."

"We could switch..." Emily said quietly. "Yeah, the only reason we're stuck like this is because they want the two of you to work things out!" she said excitedly, gesturing at me and Patricia. "If you just pretend to get along in front of them, maybe they'll let us switch rooms!"

Alex rolled her eyes. "What is this, some kind of lame sitcom? They're not going to believe that for a second."

"You got a better idea, lez-girl?"

"Yeah. I get the futon, you get the floor."

"I am not sharing a room with you!" insisted Emily, actually stamping her foot on the ground.

I was about ready to tear my hair out. "Look, will you all shut up!?" They both stopped and looked up at me. "It doesn't look like we're getting out of this, so we're just going to have to suck it up and deal, okay?"

"Oh, well, all hail to her Majesty..."

"Do you have a fucking problem with me that you want to discuss?" I shot at Patricia.

"Yeah. You're a bitch. That's my problem."

A single warning look was enough to keep Alex in place on the couch at my cousin's comment, but she frowned. "I am _not _dealing with this," I said matter-of-factly. "I'm just not. I came here to have a good time with my family, and with Alex. And that's what I'm going to fucking do."

"Well good," said Patricia haughtily, crossing her arms. "You and your little girlfriend have your good time. Emily and I will be downstairs, doing real girl stuff. You lesbians wouldn't understand."

And she removed her pretentious little ass from the room, Emily right behind her, slamming the door shut.

"_Sit,"_ I said firmly, rolling my eyes. Alex sat down reluctantly, eyes fixed on the door.

"I thought she didn't have a problem with gays?"

I snorted, plopping down on the futon next to my girlfriend. "Not gays. Just me."

Alex scooted herself a little closer, arm snaking around my waist and face nuzzling mine. "Well, I happen to love you."

"I happen to love that you love me," I said sweetly, as she kissed the top of my ear.

"I happen to love you a lot," she muttered, pecking me on the lips, and beginning to lower us over the futon, until I was lying spread out under her.

"I happen to love that you love me a lot," I whispered.

"I happen to love that I know you love me, even if you're being a bitch and refusing to say it."

I giggled, kissing her again. She tangled her hands in my hair, before gently combing it back from my face.

"Fine. I love you," I admitted.

"I know. I mean, who wouldn't? I'm smart, I'm gorgeous, I'm talented, I'm fucking amazing in bed..."

I laughed. "Well, three out of four's not bad."

She gave my ear a sharp little nip. "Watch it, Missy."

"Missy?"

"Missy."

"I like it."

"Good."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I'm wearing that lacy black bra you like."

She arched an eyebrow interestedly. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yep."

She leaned down to mutter into my ear. "Well I'm not wearing a bra at all. So there. _Missy."_

Okay, that really wasn't fair. Unbelievably aroused by that thought, I kissed her hard. She kissed back, and in seconds, we were breathless and flushed and greedy and grabby. In fact, things were just starting to get interesting when I distantly heard the door creak open.

"Oh my God! _Mom! Aunt Cathy!" _

Alex and I sat up abruptly as Patricia's shrieking voice pierced our ears. "Shit," I swore, glaring at her over the back of the futon. "Way to be a fucking five-year-old snitch, _Patty." _

She smirked, leaning against the side of the doorway. "Not my fault you can't control your urges for weird lezbo sex."

"Oh, and how many guys are you up to per week, now?"

I could hear footsteps on the stairs, my mom's voice calling up to us, and Patricia's wicked grin widened. Alex and I were sitting up, but I still hadn't made any move to shift from my position basically underneath her. Her knees were braced on either side of my hips, with me in between her legs. Both our hair was a mess, her cheeks were flushed, and mine undoubtedly were as well. Not exactly a position you want your mother to find you in.

"Hey look, here comes your mommy. You two have fun explaining away that first-stage-hickey on your neck, Princess." Patricia gave me one last vindictive smile, pushed herself off the doorway, and disappeared from view.

"You know, she's totally ruined me calling you Princess ever again," Alex frowned.

I groaned, allowing myself to fall back down against the couch behind me. "This is going to be one fucking long vacation."


End file.
